A Quiet Desire Beyond Physical in Me Stirs

Grand Canyon, North Rim, April 2013

“As the earth dies your spirit will bloom; as the world fades your soul will rise and glisten.  Amongst the dehydrated crevices of a desert earth you will stumble upon your diamonds; in between the dry skulls and cracked bones you will find your sapphires.”

“I have come to accept the feeling of not knowing where I am going.  And I have trained myself to love it.  Because it is only when we are suspended in mid-air with no landing in sight, that we force our wings to unravel and alas begin our flight.  And as we fly, we still may not know where we are going to.  But the miracle is in the unfolding of the wings.  You may not know where you’re going, but you know that so long as you spread your wings, the wind will carry you.”

~C, Joybell

I have never posted any of the poetry I have written, but today I felt compelled.

"A Quiet Desire Beyond Physical in Me Stirs"

I do not want to smile when I think of you.

I wait,

hesitate,

take two steps back.

I date others,

hoping that removes

the trace

of your touch.

You see,

I once

was brought to my knees.

Prostrate.

Begging.

Humiliated.

Shattered.

I rebuild.

My walls,

Impenetrable.

No windows.

No invitations extended.

No one I want seated at my table.

Yet,

You stand at my door.

I wave you away.

You creep back.

God damn.

So pesky.

Is this it then?

Is this the point,

6 years of dotted lines,

Connecting them so neatly.

Now I must learn,

to accept

You break my pattern.

I lean toward you,

Knowing the finality.

The expiration.

Holding my breath.

Please.

Don’t touch me like that.

Don’t make my lips curve up.

Don’t challenge me the way no other man has.

I hate myself for wanting,

It reminds me…

Reminds me of the weakness

In my knees.

How they could buckle.

I retreat.

Baby steps.

You teach me baby steps.

Your words,

They sting.

I don’t want them to.

A great misfortune?

I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore

What it is

What it isn’t.

They do. 

They do burn.

I retract.

I expand.

I am filling the spaces you create for me.

Do you know?

It is a woman’s intuition.

I brace.

I try. 

Like the other men,

I think of you as a car.

A shiny convertible.

Fast, sleek.

Sweet to slide into.

Turn on.

Rev.

Feel your power beneath me.

But you are not a car.

I listen for the sound

Of your heart beating.

You are alive.

A life.

A spark.

A lamp.

I follow the light.

I am at the edge.

You are the edge,

I peek over.

The fall is so beautiful,

So breathtakingly beautiful.

St. Lawrence River, August 2013
Photography by Kim Marasco